Movin' On .......... D.J. U-Neek Featuring NYT Owl

Baller's Lady .......... Passion Featuring E-40

Shoot 'Em Up .......... Bone Thugs-N-Harmony

If It's Alright With You .......... Cappadonna Featuring U-God

Who's The Champion .......... Ghostface Killer Featuring Rza

Collie High .......... Camp Lo

Running Song .......... Ambersunshower

Knocked Nekked (From The Waist Down) .......... Jamie Foxx Featuring Dolemite

We Got It .......... Premier

I've Got You Under My Skin .......... Lou Rawls And Biz Markie

Bring The Pain .......... Method Man

And I Love You .......... Marcus Miller

Chicken Huntin' (Slaughterhouse No Blood Radio Mix) .......... Insane Clown Posse

(NYT OWL)

(4 times)

Movin On-Movin On-Movin On
I'm Movin On-Movin On-Movin On

(DJ U-NEEK)

I escape from outta state I gotta date with big scrilla
the top billa, lampin rockin mansion and a villa
punany killa o' mighty dealer with mean stacks and green backs
lampin with a team of phat cats
but them dirty rats sceemin tryin to snatch up the capital
mad cause they know I'm stackin doe international
it's untouchable so they besta be jetti
cause a nigga don't play when your messin with my fetti
I'm ready, to do this my way, hit the highway
crusin with control, let the AC blow
it's all about the doe and nothin less for sho
and when my pockets get low I'm on a quest for mo
cause yo, life ain't the same without the ends
cause money buys friends and a hole lot of skins

Chorus:

(NYT OWL)

Cause everybody's lookin for somethin
Some of them want to use you, (I'm movin on)
Some of them want to be used by you, (movin on)
Some of them want to abuse you, (I'm movin on)
Some of them want to be a-bused, (Oh......)

(DJ U-NEEK)

Hoes be layin on their backs just to stack a phat purse
but whats worse than your fella curse by the versa tella
a soul sella, hangin out for the clout,
probably blow my brains out and hopes them chains fall out
I wouldn't doubt it, bye
niggas be actin shady
so I pack a 380, yo black, don't try to play me,
its crazy, to see your homie flip on some bogus shit
only stick around cause this shorties on my dick,
so take a lick sis your on your knees already
they thinkin petty, hypnotized by the fetti,
with your eyes steady, locked on what I got
tellin the block that I changed cause I came up on a ????
they must forgot when I rose sellin smoke
tryin to make an end we wasn't hangin tight then

Chorus

(DJ U-NEEK)

Money bless, but money ain't the key to success
the only thing that changed was my name and address
now I dress to impress, the ladies I caress
fuck the stress I got to live life at it's best
but nevertheless, snakes want to put me to the test
cause they depress, broken smokin to much cess
so they manifest, jealousy and envy
and that will be the cause of another felony
see friends turn to foes, and foes is enemies,
and enemies is fleas so they got the tendencies
to try to seize, all your geez and assets
but I smash threats like a blast for the tec
so show respect, and get respect in return
it ain't hard to earn, but some niggas will never learn

Chorus

Everybodies lookin for somethin, said ya gonna be used, they wanna be
abused, I just wanna keep on movin, movin, movin, movin, Oh, movin on,
Oh..., I'm movin on, movin on, movin on, I said movin, I'm movin on,
movin, movin, movin on, movin on, I'm movin on, Oh Oh Oh Oh Ohoh Yeah,
I'm movin on, movin on, I just got to keep on movin, I just got to keep
on movin........

*Y'know in bein player, the new generation they don't understand what it's
like to be a player. I mean everybody they like to be with money. So much
money flowin around nowadays. People use money to get what they want.*

Verse 1: Passion

Mo' wheeled, the Bonnie & Clyde
Mobbin and pumpin til the day we die
But all you haters I'm in love wit a gangsta
and I will not stop, I bet you never would've thought
I be big-time ballin, cuttin thru the halls and
strippin with the Gs, slippin niggas, please
Your baby girl's straight down with a hustler
Never gave the time of day to a buster
I'm all about pimpin and I love to mack
Can't stand a silly nigga, nah to hell with that
So I need the kind of nigga that don't see no wrong
The pimpin don't stop it goes on and on and...

Chorus: Passion

Straight up it's like that I'm a baller's lady
Don't trip if you don't understand

Verse 2: Passion

My nigga yeah I love him, place no one else above him
Only two in my crew, me and my true thugs and you
Straight up on the rise
You fools better recognise (spit it)
Some don't understand how it be when you roll with an OG
so I gotta sneak to creep
But my nigga never sweat em but a beeyatch
Pimpin ain't easy but it goes down like this

Chorus x2

Verse 3: E-40, Passion

Huh, to all the broads dat be holding me, damn she loves me
long as I keep poking up properly
So can you live up to your name girl?
I see you talk a good game girl!
If I was da seven can I get eight? (Can I get eight?)
Just buy you for goodness sake
I wanna splash in hashin, *?des-o-lust?*
Free Willy all up in them guts
Male chauvanist? No not me (no not me)
I put you on the track with a half a ki
Just bring me back my property and keep the rest of the money
and girl go on and treat yourself, go buyin all o' my *?Kamale*?
As soon as we get home you can 'ject my bone
all night long, right from wrong
Long Range Pimpin, L-R-P's
got em over here, got em overseas

I say relate to nothing else, I need a player like myself
because the nigga comes correct, gets off his back
A true G doin what he's gotta do
He couldn't help that shit if he wanted to
It gets mo' and mo' better in the Sac
Doin it like it should be, hittin it from the back
Look at me couple more times and one of dem nigga's just a mack
wantin the 6-9 for a minute while he's down in my lap
It's all about pimpin and he loves to mack
I'm down for my nigga cos he's straight like that
Cos he's the kind of player that don't see no wrong
The pimpin don't stop it goes on and on

Chorus x3

Don't trip if you don't understand

[Hook: Krayzie Bone]
Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up
Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up
Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up
Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up
Twelve gauges bust up in ya, playa haters we be quick to pin ya
You know we know, you don't wanna roll
Cause when we give it to ya, we're gonna bring it to ya, oh yeah

[Layzie Bone]
Right off the jump, ooh, now I gots to let you know
When you see me runnin' rollin' with them big shotguns,
And we deep when we creep, never sleepin'
And we droppin' them whamies on fools who wanna get dumb and numb
Now, that you know like that
These niggas come around, they don't know how to act
In fact, I'm at the track in the back
With a couple of my cats in the hood, smokin' weed and up to no good
Red Dog in the trunk, and we rollin' that
Bang or slang, now bail on over to your thugs
So me and the rest of these thugs can marinade, marinade
We straight, get high, so high,
That's how my mental, that's how my mental state is like parlay, parlay
Like everyday, don't think I don't pin playa hation
But ya better pinnin' yourself, or contend with the M-11,
.357 Automatic weapons from my shelf
These niggas wanna take my health and wealth
Check yourself, tryin' to contend, but they couldn't win
You took it to the head with a fifth of Hen
Now we in a red 500 Benz-o, we roll, roll
Drop the top, and lock the locks, cock the glock
Bout to hit this corner, livin' like a thug on the real
Who's stronger when I put it on ya, on ya, all playa haters goners

[Krayzie Bone]
Murder, mo murder, mo murder, mo murder them all
They fall, they fall buck buck, oh yeah
Niggas they get it then pissed off
And ah, and ah to fuck with the wrong motherfuckers
They fall (quick) when we buck, bitch, ooh
We got something to put you back into your truck quick
Hey, that four-four magnum, gon' handle em'
Ain't no nigga badder, .357 put that ass on the mat
Execution, I'll be shootin' while you runnin' off at your mouth
You plot me cause you watch me, watch me, watch me
My nigga, we know what ya thinkin'
Bout, but bitch, if you run up and try me
I'm comin' up outta my shit with some shit
That be keepin' you runnin' and wonderin'
What have I got to make sure they lit him up good
And you can still find me, where (You know we no bullshit)
East 99, drug dealers and po-po, yeah that's St. Clair
Bone runnin' back to Mo', and that's Cleveland, Cleveland
You know we thuggin' and theivin', theivin'
If somebody got beef, we got millions done made
I rollin' thug records for ya, see my nigga
We comin' with nothin' to lose and bitch, if ya try me
(Any bodies) All those bloody bodies, tryin' to get outta the room
If I could just look up and see haters dyin', I'n I'n,
And flip up my mind and whenever you think I'm quiet
I get plots on the riot riot bang
That's way ya get em' man, get 'em, man, get 'em, man
Sneak up on em' and you kill em' and they won't fuck with ya no more
You havin' a party, and the weed goin' up in your body
Smokers chill, my niggas done got get me sloppy high, oh so so high.

[Wish Bone]
Come on, come on, don't be shy
Let's get high

[Krayzie Bone]
We got that herb

[Wish Bone]
If you want some, want some
We got weed indeed, you need some, need some
Ah, yeah I know this just might sound crazy
But lately gotta roll with my gun
Cause the haters they hate me
Wanna hurt that nigga, Bone, niggas somehow, someway get paid
And quit playa hatin'
That buck to the bang, everything I got, I got 'cause we rhyme
Tight rhyme, Had to thug it out, but it came in time, just in time
And if you give it to me, my thugs gon' give it you
So either way we go about this goes, somebody's head gon' get blown
Bone gon' on with your bad self, now hey, hey, hey
Blowin' up your face with your pistols
And get with that buck to the bang, bang, bang
Nigga wanna roll with Bone, it's on, cause nigga, we cool, we cool
Don't forget, playa haters get that buck to the bang
All up in that body, got him, got him
We won't be slippin', we just might be peepin' you all the time
I'm comin', I'm gunnin' and I put that on the double nine

[Bizzy Bone]
Shoot em' up always, hate when I break you off and you loss
And make it look to floss
Let there be coffins for all of your offspring
Now let there be coffins for all of your offspring
For the police on the corner, creepin' up
Here come them soldiers pullin' up
Better watch one of them St. Clair niggas
Put it in a gutter, better off and doze ya
Really know ya shouldn't have let me jumpin' up out your shit
You runnin' with a gang of bitches for you
Ready when I'm ready to do it you
It in my thang but a buck, buck is small change
It's off in ten to say that they niggas was bullshittin'
And the Bizzy maintain, nigga this the North Coast homie
That city where the St. Clair niggas sell dope
I hear police roll deep in the set, see none of us scared
And we show that it's on, bitch, bang
You feel the pitch of my trigger finger's a bitch
I done put it down with my click, and stood on my own,
And kill flesh and I rest on the nine
I'll be fuckin' with y'all, slangin' my dogs
And em' all niggas been anxious lil' Bizzy, but it's all good
I still ball, and I know when ya roll
I'm snatchin' your souls with the Bone
We can show it, and since I'm a flow, and it's all of y'all realer
My niggas, I figured I'd let 'em all know it
Playas takin' up off the style, well, if you think I'm scared
You, dead wrong, did you think when I break you down.

[Hook repeated to fade]

[Cappadonna]
Yeah, '96 Park Hill style
Burial ground sound, in it forever dunn
Politic

Here we come, right through your eardrum Dunn
Cherry-head catch, feel the draft of the ox
You catch one, trying to pretend you gonna win
Headlock, show the block kid counterattack
Dunn of mine stay connect, 4th Disciple trife
Ain't nuthin ice cream, kid you get blown like steam
Park Hill Projects, the black Idi Amin
Ninety-six era, not the crossover lever
Chain swinger talk swing, probably wardrobe king
So what now? Industry kids'll lock it down
Only too loyal, dustin and then they're there for you
You wanted to enter 36 in the soil
My technique is speak, have you knocked out weak
Forever in it, my slang dick goes so deep
Thirsty for hip-hop, Staten Isle' niggaz can't stop
Runnin wild like a child til we reach the top
Stapleton, New Brighton, and West Brighton the harbor
Connect, me for vet, Don King and a tech
Thug cats'll get done up on black man's sun up
Cap the imperial, bring out new material
You hold me down, analyze all cherry-head
Wu is in town, catch the hand-off
Prepare for my dancehall standoff
Mercy when I come blow your mic hand off, sorry I touched him
Here they come again through customs
Mad ways to dead the wax, one way to bust him

Chorus:
If it's alright with you, it's alright with me
We can take this rap game to a higher degree
We can do this Spike Lee or how you want it to be
Check it, Golden Arms plus new Cappadon'

[U-God]
These 99 powerful circlin swords
Impact from all the heat dug deep and locked on
Chip off the bone, hard face and hard fists
Chop off your option, have you felt a neck twist
Cassette disc and wrist, meltdown your pistol mist
Burnt to a crisp, bombaded my pistol grip
Tongue gripped the nigga, raw tone the jawbone
Leaning tower Pisa sounds off the Mars zone
Chef dropped that bomb, the takeout will still linger
Twenty crazy christians, to lock in hole and heat up
Who the finger rap singer with hip layers of phlegm
Caused by blunt smoke, heart disease plays the friend
I ran out emotion, my rap style's devotion
I got hosts for you Soviet peoples across the ocean
My path releases, volcanic ashes
Engage in the page activity is autographics
Fraction of my bustin microphones start to lust and
Words plays over power practice might bust em
The black male persuasion known to hunt you for Satan
The Big Apple verbal concert was the occasion
The vital snap, now insert my spinal tap
I got forty more swipes to pipe, thirty slapped
The power from the cram broke the bottom of the pan
With Earth Wind & Fire, ice water dead grams
American hustler up and comin with a vengeance
Makes no magnet charge, plug vivid my extension
One lesson motivation for my pistol profestation
Slang person nailed now we move on a motation
Location, point-blank, on point be the vessel
Politic the defecit measure, point the decible
We're credible, renaissance, eatin off the barrel
Advanced chemo, die hard to my demo

Chorus

Intro: RZA and Ghostface, Raekwon () and somebody []

Word. Man fuck that nigga
Fuck that crab, ass, bitch [Who the live niggaz youknowhatI'msayin?]
[You niggaz know how to shoot joints] (Put down the gun son)
[Elmira, Riker's Island, coming from Brownsville] (Put down the gun son)
Niggaz tried to front on my little sister (Put down the gun)
[YouknowhatI'msayin we represent youknowhatI'msayin?]
[YouknowhatI'msayin? Big Tony Rhome, peace to my man Tony Rhome]
They tried to, tried to front on this (Put down the gun son)
[RZA respect youknowhatI'msayin? We keep it real]
Yeah, check it out y'all (put down the, put down the gun son)
[Put your guns down, throw your hands up]
It's on like that y'all word up, Iron Man comes back
[Represent, you niggaz gotta shoot joints]
Yo check it

Verse One: RZA

Put away your heaters, throw up your dick beaters
Accurate blows to his nose shut his eyes closed to a centimeter
Bitches on the fences wonderin what the fuck the suspense is
I land heavy uppercuts in the corner of the park fences
Knocked his mouthpiece front teeth got locked inside my knuckle
He grabbed the belt buckle, attempt to catch me with a couple
of low blows to the nuts, on ringside was as a giant du-els
Send your Barb for this fuckin jew On a Wire
He couldn't chessbox that's when he reached for his ahhs
Brother chopped me on the top of my knot, but he got stopped
When a twelve ounce bottle of Bartyle and James had him startled
A bitch threw it caught him in his head, at full throttle
He fell, the glass crashed, he wasn't saved by the bell
That was his ass black
So when it comes to physical combat
We can take it hand to hand or go beyond that
Do you want my gat to make the contact?
Retirin cats who lack the heart to fire back?
[We take all crabs overboard]

Chorus: Raekwon

Put down the gun son, son matter of fact, shoot the one on one
Hold it down, make sure the head, sure nuff don't hit the ground
Lampin on the handball courts, or the square, we can take it there
Settle it son, who the champion?

[It's like that, niggaz want to front, one more time?
I'ma show you like this. One on each side
This is it word up. We gonna lay you back
We gonna rest your back, you won't know how to act
When it come to bigger, showin and provin
Niggaz styles is wack] Who the champion? Settle it son.

Verse Two: Ghostface Killer

Yo!
I had to run up on this King at Devine, for his shines
He saw the stash and caught my mailbox for eighty dimes
He saw me stashin, like a pipe-link for mega fiends
I held it down like the finger fly miraculous King
Peep through the heavy small get the camoflouge
Starks master in charge, pushin through ery buildin, sippin egg nog
Niggaz know my status God body carry big batters
Fiends know me for my blue bags, besides smackin crabs
and earnin mine, this bitch Sha cat, gotta get his back bent
What the hell just made him fuck with my intelligent?
Back to Polly and I heard some noise we pack a two twelve
There go Lord Shamel, faggot made a sale
He's sellin my shit, I should slap fire out his ass
Snap his bones in half and watch the stock market crash
I walked up on him, he had the nerve to say Peace God
Ain't nuttin Peace God, you stole it now we out in the streets
Take your shit off, nigga you soft, back up off
Youse a shady nigga, I'm a sever fig you with a gloss
I snuffed him, threw a crazy left and I cuffed him
Allah don't like ugly so I held back from bustin him
I passed the burn off, he caught me from the blind side
Tapped a nigga jaw, I shot my fifty-two style, and crazy raw
I had my ice on, tapped a few times, he started leakin
De King with the deadarm, Shamel fell to his knees and
He started wheezin, losin his breath from smokin trees and
I'm still breathin, bleedin because it's frontin season
Now I got that project belt, international/national
Worldwide, I let Shamel slide

Chorus

You need to come inside and check Lo
Relax yourself and let the sugar Lo flow
Coolie High got you wide
You need to come inside and check Lo
Relax yourself and let the sugar Lo flow
Coolie High keeps you wide
You need to come inside and check Lo
Relax yourself and let the sugar Lo flow
Coolie got you wide
You need to come inside and check Lo
Relax yourself and let the sugar Lo flow
Verse One:
Its rainin alizay
Im floatin through the Holland tunnel swervin
Im diggin on the Sheeba
Pullin Sheeba she be splergin
We lurkin with the coon
Cuz we be murkin from the boogie
And shittin on the crowds
Cuz they jive fakin woody
Yeah..
Tre shots of life for all night you dig it
Camp-ah hotta pinata
Too big quiver get hipper
Spillin coffee inside my automo' Aldo
Crackin satin and leather
What's happenin bullet convincer
Cash straight outta comic..
Books catchin the flurry
Keep your eye on the Lo
Where Mr....
Cuz we comin wit hammers and drivers
With the buddahs and rugars
And shot cruisers and rovers
Diamond crooks.. takin it over
With razors and cutters
With the sugar and butters
Pimp the seasons in leathers
We live for Coolie High treasures
And..
Check the queen bee Lady Ree diggin Grace
Check the place 3 o clock shat no we aint
Fred and Cot bring it in the paint no such thing
Blasts of dynamite sing my superfly to the..
Cleopatra in the casino with gold sugar
Dig my harlequinn
And drench you with my diner garments
From Beva to Bevro in the Montaro slidin to Dero
With bottles of Asti Spumanti to tranquilize my heaven
Count seven we gettin explicit shootin sugar to the shorties
Luchini to spare let me see you
Its losin the air
Word life
Chorus:
You need to come inside and check Lo
Relax yourself and let the sugar Lo flow
Coolie High got you wide
(repeat 3X)
You need to come inside and check Lo
Relax yourself and let the sugar Lo flow
Verse Two:
Lo keeps the party live
The 80 proof is leakin got me screachin
Jersey Drive
We screamin cuz we caliber is bring it
Im layin in the purple rain until I see some action
We movin motionless.. continuos and thats happenin
We got the bubbly pourin through me and Cleopatra's casino
See back in Coolie High Jack and Jitterbugs and
Dolemite's outta site Anti-hatahs cats in the city
On the money takin the tri-state under sore savant
Billy Holidayin' the Foxy Browns with my Harlequinns
Penny he repellin reflected crystals is Hollywood
Dont pull the stars
Cuz we lickin Cuban cigars.. and sippin Moe
Playin the jigga cotton
The figgas on the Lo and Lo
Blessin the dimes
Keepin my Camp is on the higher flow
Livin the crimes hittin them slide
For the c-note
Yo..
President city
Pourin right on the JJs and Sautee
Cab Callowayin the last of the finest Shot Sirus
Christ is comin lower
with Jiggas less to zero that
Sex the Lo
Dice the Lo
Ill tell you what
On the night vision decision underneath the silver moon
Boy from company C A day sugar love
Chief be for stonin
Robbin chero be for midnight
The safety's off the toaster
And my shadow's by the moonlight
Cuz Data's on the levels and the Lo is on the EQ
My stamina is sugar
And its love love forever yall
Chorus
Outro:
------
Camp Lo-ah (x27)

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(he keeps talks to the class)
Basically (fuck you) can't fuck with me

Verse One:

I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain
Let's go inside my astral plane
Find out my mental's based on instrumental
records hey, so I could write monumental
Methods, I'm not the King
But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the cream
check it, just how deep can shit get
Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad just accept it
In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over
Then got totally crossed out like Kris Kross
Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side
and I'm the dark side of the force
Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan
I be hectic, and coming for the head piece protect it
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus
bustin at me punk now bust it
Styles, I gets buckwild
Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files
I'm sick, insane crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy
out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze

Chorus:

Is it real son, is it really real son
Let me know it's real son, if it's really real
Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one
Want it raw deal son, if it's really real

Interlude: Booster

(The Booster!)
And when I was a lil stereo
I listened to some champion
I always wondered
Will now I be the numba one?
Now you listen to de gargon
And de gargon summary
And any man dat come test me
Me gwanna lick out dem brains

Verse Two:

Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope
the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke
off the set comin to your projects
Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise
Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit
Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit
And it's gonna get even worse word to God
It's the Wu comin through vickin niggaz for they garments
Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth
Came to represent and carve my name in your chest
You can come test realize you're no contest
Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West
Quick on the draw with my hands on the four
nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore
Check it cause I think not when it's hip-hop like proper
Rhymes be the proof when i'm drinkin 90 proof
Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw
When you give it to me yeah, give it to me raw
I've learned that when you drink Absolut straight it burns
Enough to give my chest hairs a perm
I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe
All I need is Chemical Bank to pay the mo

Outro:

Basically you're left with Meth-Tical
{Northern spicy brown mustard hoes} coming with Tical
and when you see it happen, you stick em

Puttin Def Jam's on my records, it's on
I'll fuckin, slide you down a rusty razor-blade
into a pool of alcohol

(alright bring it back)
I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin, cut your kneecaps off
and make you kneel in some staircase piss

I'll fuckin (that nigga got his but cut)
cut your eyelids off (and served by the cube)
and feed you nothing but sleeping pills (like a cool Cuban
out this motherfucker... he got a half a joint, and one eyebrow)

(Yeah and Rae got a shell-toe)
You motherfucker
(One shell-toe Adidas on his feet)
(Sooooo????) So fuck the hoe
Fuck the hoe
Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin, shoe-lookin
Baby spicy mustard, shoe-lookin!

texttext

Chicken Huntin'

[Violent J]
Well, I'm heading down a southern trail, I'm going chicken huntin'
Chopping redneck chicken necks I ain't saying nothing
To the hillbilly stuck my barrel in his eye
Boomshacka boomshacka hair jumps in the sky
Why I never liked chicken pot pie?
Or the chopped chicken on rye?
So tell Mr. Billy Bob I'm a cut his neck up
Slice, poke, chop chop, stab, cut
What can you do with the drunken hillbilly
Cut his fucking eyes out and feed em to his Aunt Milly
Willy Willy chicken neck, chicken hunting gotta love it
Hit him with the twelve gauge bucket, chicken nuggets
Laid out all over the grass
Then his little hound dog will eat em up fast
Last as long as you can my man
Cuz when that chicken head hits the fan, you got
Blood guts fingers and toes (3x)
Sittin front row at the chicken show so...

[Chorus]
Who's going chicken huntin, we's goin' chicken huntin' (3x)
Cut a motherfucking chicken up, right!

[Shaggy 2 Dope]
Let me get a chicken sandwich with manwich
I'm finna wreck on a chicken neck
Chopping up Hilly and Billy Bob Billy
Cuz I chop motherfucking redneck silly
Peeked in his yard and what did I see
I seen a chicken boy fucking a sheep
I say "Mister Mister, what the fuck you trying to do"
Ah, Billy Billy Boo
Barrels in your mouth, bullets to your head
The back of your neck's all over the shed
Boomshacka boom chop chop bang
I'm 2 Dope and it ain't no thang
To cut a chicken, trigger's clickin
Blow off his head but his feet still kickin
Last as long as you can my man
Cuz when that chicken head hits the fan you got
Blood guts fingers and toes (3x)
Sittin front row at the chicken show so...

[Chorus (3x)]

[Violent J]
Went to Kentucky, I got lucky
Met this hot-collared bitch named Bucky
Riding on a chicken, milking a cow
Hittin switches in a drop top low ride tractor plow

[Shaggy 2 Dope]
Redneck fella, moonshine sella
Hang him by his neckbones, chicken bones
Locked in the cellar, yellow belly chicken plucker
You redneck fucker!

[Chorus (3x)]